


don't lose your head

by peachsneakers



Series: preservation of the self [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Morally Neutral Deceit Sanders, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 22:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19711066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: Virgil's not having a good day.





	don't lose your head

**Author's Note:**

> i am trash but i love the Sanders Sides so much, and especially Virgil.

He doesn't know why it's a bad day. He just...wakes up like this sometimes, and he's just a little too on edge. The shadows in his room are a little too dark and a little too _there_ and his eyeshadow is just that much darker. On days like this, he doesn't want to do anything.

Well. That's not precisely true, now is it. Virgil's eyes slide to his bedside table. Anything but innocuous, a razor blade gleams with the ghostly light that manages to penetrate his room. It has rusty red spots on it, but they aren't rust. He doesn't think that anything _can_ rust in the mind space.

No, it's dried blood because most of the time, he can't force himself to wash it off, not after the last time he tried and cut his fingers. It hurt like a bitch, even more so since he _wasn't_ expecting _that_ pain, and he had to hide his hands in the sleeves of his hoodie so nobody would notice.

Not that he thinks anyone would notice, anyway. Sure, everyone's made a big show now of accepting him, but do they _really_? Do they really want him around? Why _would_ they? He ruins everything. He panics when Thomas sees someone cute or has an audition coming up or has to talk to someone brand new. He frets over interactions in the drive-thru and waving at someone on the way to the grocery store. He freaked out when Thomas dyed his hair purple (even though he secretly loved it. What if _other people_ didn't?)

And now they've even let _Deceit_ come around. Virgil refuses to think his real name, not when the others don't know it yet. That's Deceit's prerogative to spill the beans, no matter how many nasty digs he keeps making at Virgil, about his former life as a Dark Side. Even the name sounds so foreboding. But what else is he? Dark. Foreboding.

Broken. Fucked up. Paranoid.

He knows Logan almost called him 'paranoid' in the last video, when Remus decided to pop up. It's not wrong. Maybe it hurts even more because it's the truth. Virgil's eyes fall on the razor again. His breathing speeds up. Before he can stop himself, it's in his hand and a handful of thin red lines sting on his wrist, welling fat, red droplets.

"Shit," Virgil curses, dropping the razor blade like it's electrified. His wrist feels raw, although he knows he hasn't objectively done _that_ much. He's done much, much worse in the past. So much so, he made even _Thomas_ think about-

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" Deceit's smirking voice drawls behind him. Virgil whirls, unthinking.

"Get out of my room!" He hisses. Deceit's eyes fall on his wrist, smeared and bloody, and they narrow.

"I'll _totally_ do that," Deceit says, stepping closer. "I'll _gladly_ leave you alone when you're obviously _fine_."

"Oh, shut up," Virgil says. "I _am_ fine."

"You _do_ remember who I am, right?" Deceit asks, raising an eyebrow. The light glitters off the scales covering half his face. "Lies are _most_ becoming, Virgil. Truly."

"All right, so maybe I'm not fine," Virgil snaps. "I fail to see how it's any of your business."

"Maybe it's not," Deceit concedes, with a shrug. "Watch me give a fuck." He snaps his gloved fingers and a first aid kit appears, thumping down on the bedspread. "This will _definitely_ not hurt," he warns, as he tears open an antiseptic wipe. It stings like hell and Virgil has to bite his lip to avoid crying out. Deceit carefully affixes several Nightmare Before Christmas-themed band-aids on his wrist.

"There we go," Deceit says in satisfaction. "Now. I am not at all dying to know what's behind all this."

"I'm Anxiety," Virgil scowls. "Do you really need more of an answer?"

"Yes," Deceit retorts, unblinking. "You forget, Virgil, I've _always_ known you. You _stopped_ doing this for quite a while. So that makes me think what has changed..."

"You," Virgil says. Deceit stares at him. "Well- not you. Exactly. But you _are_ the one who keeps- _kept_ needling me and now I've told Thomas and he probably hates me for it and why not? I know nobody _really_ wants me around, all I do is mess everything up. I know there's that stupid curve Logan won't shut up about, so I guess I'm okay in small doses, but that's just it. _Small_ doses."

"I..." Deceit folds his hands in front of him, looking unsettled. In the shadows of his room, Virgil can see the reflections of Deceit's other arms, similarly discombobulated. "Virgil. I genuinely had no idea that my banter had upset you so much."

"I literally told you that your face ruined my day," Virgil snaps.

"Yes, but that's normal for you," Deceit dismisses. "I apologize, Virgil. I didn't mean to pressure you into revealing your past. And-" He hesitates. "This isn't a falsehood. I'm _positive_ the others appreciate you. I know they didn't in the past, I was there- well, lurking, but I was still there- but they do now. And I-" He pauses again. "I am not opposed to your existence or company, Virgil. You can always come and visit me. I'm sure you've forgotten where my room is, it's been _so_ long."

Virgil laughs weakly, but he feels a little bit better.

"Never thought I'd say this, but thanks, Deceit," he says. A lazy smirk slides across Deceit's face.

"You're _not_ welcome," he says.


End file.
